“Ah, Sonny, you are trapped in your way of life, trapped by such old rules. Don’t you see, I am willing to share you with your woman. Keep her, go to her when you want, eat her tacos and chile and make love to her. That has nothing to do with us. We are old souls who were destined to meet. We are not bound by those old rules.”
“A tempting offer.”
The guys at the Fourth Street Cantina would kick his ass if they knew he had turned her down. Maybe he’d be kicking himself.
“You give yourself so little credit. You are golden, like the sun, you are a warrior of the sun,” she said. “Some of your ancestors were the Aztecs of Mexico, the bronze people of the sun. You have never used your potential to look into your past lives, Sonny.”
“Because I’ve never made love to you?”
She smiled. “That will come with time. There are so many ways to join in union. Our souls may unite, even as I wait for you to come to my bed. I have come to pray to the morning sun of summer. Come, join me in prayer,” she said and turned to face the rising sun.
Just like don Eliseo, Sonny thought. But the old man prayed for clarity. The old man prayed for humanity. Tamara and her Zia cult friends offered sacrifice. Offered Gloria.
She closed her eyes and raised her arms to the sun. “Feel the power of the ancient sun. Pray that the soul of Raven finds a new temple, a new body.…”
Sonny strained to hear her mumbled words. He looked at her and saw the powerful concentration she possessed. The ecstasy of prayer and the energy of the sun shining on her made beads of perspiration break out on her forehead. She chanted a song for Raven. He would return, she sang.
Sonny’s gaze lingered on the light that surrounded Tamara. The outline of her lithe body was revealed by the penetrating light of the sun. She was absorbed in her prayer to the sun, lost in the elemental world that gathered around her. Yes, a real beauty, Sonny thought, a strong woman.
When her song was done, she let her arms down slowly and turned to face Sonny. She drew a deep breath; the communion with the sun had taken her breath.
“I have seen Raven rising into the sky. The sun’s power draws his soul like it sucks water from the sea. ‘Keep the Zia sign safe until my return,’ he said.”
She shaded her eyes. “During the day I must cover myself from the sun. It is so strong and masculine, so penetrating. But in the morning it is a gentle lover. Morning is a time for making love.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“The moment when the sun rises is a special time. It brings with it the memories of time past. Ah, it was my destiny to come to this land of the sun. Land of enchantment.”
“You’ve become a worshiper of the Zia sun?”
She smiled. “Darling, I have always been a sun worshiper. The king has different names, but he is the king. In a prior life I was an attendant to the god Osiris. I was there when the sun disc was held aloft by Osiris. I saw his transformation into Sun King. In all my prior incarnations, I have walked by the side of the Sun King!”
Her voice rose, the pink flush of exhilaration spread along her throat. “You have never opened your soul to believe in prior lives, Sonny.”
“No.”
“But you have had dreams, you have tasted a little of the mystery. I know you have. I sense it in you.”
Sonny nodded. He had a secret. Something he hadn’t told Rita or his mother. Sometimes, in dreams, he felt he was actually the reincarnation of his Bisabuelo, Elfego Baca. But he didn’t know if the visions came simply because all his life he had been inspired by the stories he heard of the famous sheriff, or if there was something more to it.
Words, stories, images, dreams, myths, sounds, and smells were stored in the brain, and the mind could create a million connections with the material. Memory stretched back to the beginning of time, and the spirits of the ancestors flitted through the air, visited in dreams, spoke, and gave guidance. Souls wandered the universe, they became the Señores y Señoras de la Luz. Their voices whispered in the wind. Why should he deny that they renewed themselves in new bodies?
“You have no faith.” Tamara laughed. “That makes you vulnerable. That is why you resist me, Sonny. You know you and I are very much alike. My origins are Egyptian, but I am an old soul who has wandered the earth through many reincarnations. I was in the court of the Aztecs when their gods decided that to keep the sun moving, they had to offer him the blood of sacrifice. I have been in those places, and now I am here. I do my duty and keep the sun on its journey!”
“By offering sacrifice?” Sonny asked.
Tamara’s eyes narrowed. “By honoring the sun.”
“Gloria wasn’t honored. She was a frightened woman who was running away, and for that she was murdered.”
“Is that why you came here? To talk about Gloria? I have nothing to say about her!” Tamara nearly shouted. “Gloria was a stupid woman!”
“Why? Because you couldn’t keep her under your control?”
It was his turn to feel anger. The woman standing in front of him believed in sacrificing people. That wasn’t faith or belief; it was murder.
“Gloria died because she didn’t believe in Raven!” Tamara retorted.
“No!” Sonny shouted, grabbing her by the arms. “She died because you needed the money!”
Tamara winced, broke loose, her face livid. “She wanted to leave our group!”
“And you were afraid she would expose you!”
“Expose what?”
“You financed Raven!”
Tamara hesitated, calmed herself, then coldly replied. “No, I helped Anthony Pájaro’s group fight to save the Earth. You knew that all along!”
“You knew Raven was going to blow the truck.”
“He was willing to do anything for his cause! What greater love can a man have?”
“You believe that?”
“Yes. His body was swept away, but his spirit will rise like the phoenix to be born again. He will return to us, Sonny.” Her smile was enigmatic, arrogant. “Perhaps at this very moment his spirit is coming to rest in you. You are wearing his medallion, and it fits you.”
“For him you murdered Gloria.”
“I murdered no one,” Tamara replied, her voice cold and in control. “Raven’s wives carry out his orders. I am the queen of the Zia Sun,” she said haughtily. “I do no one’s bidding.”
She was not going to confess anything, and perhaps she was telling the truth. She didn’t join in the dirty business with Raven’s wives; she was too smart for that. She let Veronica execute the sacrifice. Tamara was the Sun Queen, the commanding presence who orchestrated the ceremony, but not the one who groveled in blood.
“Veronica’s been charged with Gloria’s murder. The DA will offer her a plea bargain. A lesser sentence if she tells who was with her.”
Tamara smiled. “She can say what she wants, but you know I would not be so stupid. That I was there when the sacrifice occurred is nonsense!”
Sonny shrugged. Yeah, Tamara was not so stupid.
“The police will question you anyway—”
“Let them, darling, let them. I’ll tell them the woman was my housekeeper. I found her taking some of my valuables, and I fired her. So she will try to drag my name in the mud. The police will see through her lies.”
Tamara had figured it out to the last detail, Sonny thought, and just maybe she was telling the truth. She made plans in the background, but the cult did the dirty work.
“Why did Gloria join you?”
“Women,” Tamara replied, “have been wounded by life. Man is a very violent animal. You know that, and you know what she suffered as a child. So we gather to protect each other. Gloria needed help. She thought she had cancer, but the ‘tumor’ she had was clearly the abuse she went through as a child. She came to me for spiritual counseling. She told me about her abuse as a child, and I set out to purge the memory.”
“By brainwashing?”
“I helped her!” Tamara’s voice rose in anger.
“She was thankful. No one had ever helped her. She had been used all her life, and I helped her!”
“She was to become one of Raven’s wives.”
Tamara turned to look at the blue cloisonné vase that sat at the edge of the patio. “I wanted to help Gloria,” she whispered. “Like her, I, too, have known real suffering. We were Gypsies, branded inferior, subhuman. My mother was homeless when I was born, on the day of the summer solstice, 1952—”
“And your father?”
“I call no man father,” Tamara retorted. “It is my mother who brought me into the world! She was scorned and rejected for her ways. ‘Sun worshiper,’ they cursed her. She kept us alive by reading Tarot cards.… Yes, those hypocritical Christians came in her back door to have the cards read. The same cards they denounced as instruments of the devil in church! She was a brilliant woman, she had the gift of divination. She told me stories, told me about her past lives as a votary of the sun. Before she died she made me promise that I would escape to a land where the sun shines. There I would use the power of the sun to illuminate my past lives. I honor her vision.”
Sonny sighed sadly. The mother filled the daughter with stories, and that was natural. But the child had grown to adulthood and twisted those stories to evil ends.
Tamara drew close and put her arms around his neck. “Is it so difficult for you to understand? You are the new Raven. Anything you ask for is yours. It is time for us to be together.”
She pressed her lips on his, but now the sexual warmth she had aroused before was gone. The sweet smell of the lilac perfume overwhelmed him. He saw images: Gloria’s dead body, the Zia sign cut around her navel, the dead cow at Escobar’s ranch, the dead goat hung in the basement. This woman of the sun was really not a woman of the sun but a pale creature associated with death.
She would cover him with gold, make him the hombre dorado. He would wear Raven’s gold medallion, but he would lose his soul.
“Make love to me,” she whispered. “Come inside and make love to me. I will illuminate your path—”
“Sorry, I can’t,” Sonny said. “Afraid we have company.” He gestured toward the house where Howard and the police chief were coming around the corner.
32
“Good morning, Ms. Dubronsky.” The chief smiled and bowed slightly.
Sonny looked at Tamara. She’d been caught by surprise; nevertheless, she smiled and pulled herself up straight, assuming the role of the gracious hostess.
“Guests so early in the morning,” she said to the chief and held out her hand. “Although you come without announcing yourselves, may I offer you coffee?”
“No, Miss Dubronsky, I’m here on business,” the chief answered. “I have a warrant for your arrest in connection with the murder of Gloria Dominic.”
“A warrant? Are you playing games with me?”
“Afraid not,” Garcia mumbled. “The DA will be here shortly. If you have any questions, he will be glad—”
“I understand,” she interrupted and turned to Sonny. “You were right, the police would come and ruin this most important date. I didn’t give you enough credit, darling. I always thought you were just a small-town detective.”
“I am,” Sonny said, “but I guess Grandfather Sun just watches over his small-town people.”
Tamara shaded her eyes and looked up at the sun. The sun had turned against her. Perhaps Raven was dead, and at that moment the forces he commanded no longer had power. She shook her head and moaned softly.
Sonny drew close and placed his hands on her shoulders. There was one final question he had to ask.
“What did Veronica do with Gloria’s blood?”
She gazed into his eyes and smiled.
“I know nothing—”
He shook her shoulders. “I am wearing the sign of the Zia sun,” he said. “I must know!”
“Yes,” she whispered, “you are the Sun King.…”
She turned slightly to let Sonny’s gaze follow hers. For a moment her gaze rested on the blue-and-orange cloisonné vase that sat at the edge of the patio.
Ah, he thought, so that’s why it drew my attention. That’s why I sensed Gloria here. The orange design was the Zia sun symbol swimming in the New Mexican sky.
Tamara rose on her toes and kissed Sonny’s cheek. “This is an inconvenience. I know you will call me as soon as this is cleared up.” She turned to the chief. “I believe it’s a waste of your time and mine, but I am ready. You will allow me to call my attorney,” she said resolutely.
“Of course,” the police chief answered.
She nodded and held out her arm for the police chief to take. She turned to Sonny. “Darling, I am sorry it ended this way. Remember, Raven lives.”
Sonny nodded and watched as the chief led her away. When they disappeared into the house, he walked to the vase. It was filled with dark, clotted earth. They had mixed the blood with earth sometime during their perverted ceremony.
The ancient Egyptians buried the organs of the body in canopic jars, he remembered Howard saying the day Gloria was murdered. They then buried the jars with the mummy. The delicate cloisonné vase was Gloria’s canopic jar.
“Gloria’s blood,” he said to Howard.
“In the vase?” Howard said in surprise.
“You were right, Howard,” Sonny said. “Gloria was a sacrifice. They mixed her blood in with earth—Damn!”
People were apparently capable of anything. The innocence of the city had died long ago; the oasis was now attracting diablos from all directions, the hombres dorados.
“Any word on Veronica?” Sonny asked.
“She was questioned last night, but she’s a tough woman. All the evidence is against her. The question is, will she testify against Tamara?” Howard replied. “The DA is going to need her testimony.”
“Yeah. He has to get Veronica to testify against Tamara. Split the team.” Sonny sighed. “At least Raven got what he deserved.”
“And the money?”
“Raven probably used it to buy the dynamite, the Jeep, other supplies. If there’s any left over, it probably wound up in the arroyo, on his body.”
They stood in silence, looking at the vase that held Gloria’s blood. What will it mean to Frank? Sonny thought. Probably nothing.
On the day of the solstice, while Sonny was tracking down Raven, Frank Dominic had lost the mayoral primary election to the incumbent, Marisa Martinez. The rain had kept many away from the polls, but loyal Martinez voters from the valley had braved the storm. The predicted sympathy vote had not materialized for Dominic, and the people of the city were content to let the talented woman who had led them for the past four years lead them four more, even without a commitment from Akira Morino.
What about Akira Morino, Sonny thought. He didn’t have to go to the DA now, didn’t need to smear his name in public. He could return home to wife and kids and leave behind the dream of a high-tech corridor between Los Alamos and Sandia Labs.
Perhaps that was best. The cities of the Southwest were still watering holes in the desert, tents put up on the sand hills, on the banks of the river. That’s what characterized the cities of the Southwest, the whimsy of homes built on sand. As if nothing was permanent; as if deep down the people knew they were only passing through and the time would come for them to move on.
The first settlers had built homes from adobe brick, from the clay and sand of the river valley. Some of those old homes were still around. Adobe had the permanence of earth. It was earth. Perhaps that’s why the newcomers liked to build their fashionable million-dollar homes from adobe. It gave them a sense of permanence.
Sonny had been in a Santa Fe home built by a wealthy man only a few years before. The adobe walls were hand plastered, and the wood antiqued to look old. “Isn’t it great!” the man boasted. “We’ve only been here three years, but the place looks like one of the original homes!”
Foolish dreams! They longed for permanence. They longed for roots.
Sonn
y looked toward the West Mesa. On the perimeter of the city the wild coyotes waited to return to their old hunting grounds. He glanced toward the river bosque and a shadow moved in his peripheral vision. Two coyotes had been surveying the scene, no telling how long, and now they disappeared into the shadows. He thought for a moment they might be the same coyotes he had seen at Lorenza’s house.
Overhead, a crow cried and circled, then its dark shadow flew toward the river, interrupting the moments of reverie the vase had created. Sonny shivered in the hot sun.
“What now?” Howard asked.
“Just wondering what to do with Gloria.…”
“She led you on quite a chase.”
“Yes.”
“Ashes to ashes …”
“Así es la vida,” Sonny said. “Un puño de tierra, as the song says. I’ve found her soul. Now will she let me rest?”
“What are you going to do?”
“Bury her,” Sonny said. He knew what he had to do.
Howard nodded. “Garcia didn’t say it, so I will. Gracias.”
Sonny smiled. “I should thank you, amigo,” he said and gave Howard an abrazo. He picked up the cloisonné vase and carried it to his truck.
He called his mother on his cellular, told her what he had found, heard her sob of relief, a sigh thanking God.
“It’s over,” she said, “this terrible thing is over. Call Delfina.”
“I will,” he said.
Tía Delfina sobbed. “I’m glad it’s over,” she said. “I knew you would find those guilty, Sonny. Gracias a Dios.”
“I thought we should take the earth that holds her blood to the cemetery,” Sonny said.
“Yes, you’re right. Let her be united. Let the earth that holds her body hold her blood.”
The third call was to Rita. She, too, cried when he told what had happened. “Que descanse en paz,” she said.
When Sonny arrived at tía Delfina’s she was waiting, still dressed in black, standing stiffly, trying not to give in to grief again. Sonny opened the truck door for her. She looked at the cloisonné vase on the seat, then took it gently and held it on her lap as they drove to pick up Rita.
Zia Summer, Rio Grande Fall, Shaman Winter, and Jemez Spring Page 36